


Spoils of Rage

by blackfin



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: AU where Harrow survives the attack, Blood and Injury, Injury Recovery, Mild Blood, SPOILERS AHEAD, Spoilers, Stop reading if you don't want to be spoiled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackfin/pseuds/blackfin
Summary: When King Harrow survives the attack on his life, Viren has a change in plans. He spreads the rumors that the Princes perished in the fight, fabricating evidence to back up the despairing whispers.Obviously, Harrow doesn't take the news very well.





	Spoils of Rage

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an ask that tumblr user x-adia got   
> I really, really, really like this idea and hope to explore it more in the future!   
> Also posted on my tumblr, blackfen <3

It was an impromptu, in the moment change of plans that worked out far better than he ever could have dreamed.

Harrow was wounded in the fight but, somehow, managed to survive by the skin of his teeth. The last thing he said before he slipped into unconscious was to call out for his sons, struggling to get up off the floor as blood splattered everywhere. Viren managed to catch him just in time, his mind already racing with what he could do with this situation to benefit himself. Harrow collapsed in his arms, went limp and stayed that way for three days. His injuries were severe – a lesser man most likely would have met his end – but Harrow pulled through, blinking blearily to awareness in mid-afternoon on the third day after the attack.

By that point, Viren had long since put his plan into action. The princes were missing; he was certain that they were still alive, possibly traveling alongside one of the Moonshadow elves that dared enter their fortress but he was the only person who held such knowledge. When the princes were discovered to be missing, he immediately sowed the seeds of despair that they’d been killed and their bodies disposed of. He left hints and clues, anything that could indicate that while the King had escaped death, the princes were not so lucky.

The greatest clue he left was Callum’s highly recognizable red scarf, which Viren had splattered with a heavy dose of pig’s blood. After that, there was no need to hint any longer, though he left little smatterings of signs around nonetheless, just to ensure the point was truly driven home. A heavy, despairing silence fell over the castle. Everyone was dreading the moment King Harrow awoke. When he did, Viren made sure he wasn’t there, that he was up in his tower, pretending to pour over any information that could provide some insight into the attack, while a lady in waiting, with tears quietly streaming down her face, delivered the scarf to Harrow’s hands.

It was only when he was called that he ventured down into the King’s chambers. Straightening his shoulders, hands clasped behind his back, Viren set a stony, purposefully blank expression on his face. He could play the part of a grieving man just as easily as he acted out all of his other expected roles. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded to the guards, who carefully pushed open the doors, and stepped through.

Harrow was sitting up in bed, Callum’s scarf clasped tightly in his hands. As Viren quietly made his way over to him, he was surprised when Harrow lifted the scarf to his face, pressed the stained material firmly to his nose and mouth, eyes fluttering closed, tears clinging to his long lashes before they streaked slowly down his cheeks.

“You are certain?” He asked, his cracked voice barely audible.

“Certainty would mean having their bodies in our possession, which we have found no trace of.” Viren answered, keeping his voice low, disturbed by how easily Harrow was openly weeping in front of him. “But the amount of blood we found, all the signs, point to,” he sucked in another deep breath, cleared his throat and rasped, “to the princes being…dead.”

“Find me their bodies and I will believe you.” Harrow said roughly, his eyes flying open, and a cold stare flickering his way, making him jump slightly. “Send out every soldier. Search every inch of this world until they are found.”

“King Harrow-“

Jerking forward, one hand flying to his stomach, where his largest wound was still not even close to fully healed, Harrow wrenched himself to his feet, smacking away the attending medics attempts to stop him. Mouth twisted into a vehement snarl, a deadly fire burning in his smoldering green eyes, tears cascading down his cheeks, Harrow straightened to his full height – not much taller than Viren but when he was like that, it seemed as though he was fifty, a hundred, a thousand feet tall – and spat, “Dead or alive, I will find my children. If they are alive, then I will have them returned safely to me. If they are dead, then I will have every inch of Moonshadow territory razed, burned until there is nothing but ashes! Do you understand me, Mage?!”

“Yes, sir.” Viren said humbly, bowing his head, fighting against every instinct to smile. “I will do everything in my power to find Prince Callum and Prince Ezra. Now, please, you’re going to injure yourself all over again.”

“I will not lay here while my children may be in danger or rotting in some wood!” Harrow snarled, taking a step forward, swaying as he walked.

“And what do you plan to do, sir?” Viren asked coolly, “When you can barely hold yourself up straight? Are you going to drag yourself through the entire castle? The entire forest?

“If that’s what it takes.” Harrow seethed through clenched teeth, gripping tightly onto the bedpost to keep himself upright.

Viren sighed heavily, “Rest, you damn fool. Gather your strength, and heal. You aren’t worth anything to your sons in your current state. If they are in Moonshadow custody or are on the run, unaware that the attack was unsuccessful then you need to be ready to defend them. In your state, all you could do is bleed all over the elves, and I’m sure they wouldn’t view that as intimidating. And, if it is as we feared, you will need to be ready for battle. Either way,” Viren strolled forward, placed one hand firmly into the center of Harrow’s chest and pushed him back down onto the bed, ignoring the look of utter indignation and hatred that was shot his way, “heal. For your sons.”

“They need me.” Harrow panted, “I will not-“

“Silence.” Viren ordered, rather enjoying this newfound status of momentarily being able to order the King around, “They do need you but they need a fully healed, actually able to stand you. Do you not agree with that?”

Harrow glared up at him, his gaze so heated that Viren was surprised it didn’t burn a hole straight through his forehead then wrenched his gaze away, awkwardly shuffling back to his original place in the bed, much to the relief of the attending medics, who let out audible sighs of relief. Picking up Callum’s scarf once more, he squeezed it tightly and muttered, “Find my children, Viren.”

“I give you my word, my King.” Viren placed a hand over his heart, bowed low then turned and walked quickly out of the room.

Once he was safely out of sight of anyone who would find him smiling at a moment like this bizarre, Viren finally let the somber expression drop away, replaced by one of delighted satisfaction. Everything was going exactly as planned. He knew that the scarf and little hints would never be enough to convince Harrow. No, the bodies of Prince Callum and Prince Ezra were needed. That would be the only thing to push him over to edge, to actually follow through on his threat to burn the lands of the Moonshadow elves and, hopefully, all of magical Xadia to embers.

Soren had his orders, and he would follow through on them. It would not be long until the bodies of Prince Callum and Prince Ezra were placed before Harrow, and his plan could finally be underway. Harrow would follow him like a dog on a leash, straight into the heart of Xadia, his heart intent on revenge. And he, oh, he would reap the spoils of that rage.


End file.
